


Stories Told and Untold

by ariel2me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davos, Stannis, grandchildren, history lesson, story time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“The history of House Baratheon can be traced from the male line to Orys Baratheon, one of Aegon Targaryen's fiercest commanders, and from the female line to Argella Durrendon, the daughter of the last Storm King, Argilac the Arrogant. Orys -”

“But Grandfather, we don't want you to _read_ it to us,” Cassana complained.

Her twin brother Henry backed her up. “We want you to _tell_ us the story.”

“The _real_ story. With all the bits not included in the history books,” Cassana continued. She lowered her voice and whispered conspiratorially. “Is it true that Orys Baratheon was King Aegon's half-brother?”

Davos sighed, and tried to put on a stern expression on his face. He was failing, he knew, because the twins were giggling instead of looking chastised.

“This is history, not merely a story,” Davos said firmly. Or as firmly as he could ever manage with Henry and Cassana. “ _You are far too indulgent with those children_ ,” the king had said to Davos, more than once.

“Do you know what is the difference between the two?” Davos asked them.

“History is about things that happened in the past,” Henry replied. “Things that really happened, things that are true.” He glanced at his sister.

“A story can be true, or not true,” Cassana continued after her brother. “And they don't have to be about the past. They can be about the future too.”

“Or the present,” Henry said.

Davos smiled. They were bright children, these grandchildren of his.

“There is not much difference between a story and history when it comes to the past. History is what they call a story when it's written down in a maester's fancy handwriting and bounded with thick leather. Truth has nothing to do with it at all,” a harsh voice interrupted.

“Your Grace,” Davos said, surprised to find the king in the children's playroom. They were usually summoned to the king's study if he wished to see them.

“Grandfather,” the twins greeted the king. Cassana curtsied, and Henry bowed his head.

“There is a letter from your mother and father,” Stannis said, his hand holding out the letter. Princess Shireen and Devan were visiting Dorne to attend the wedding of Trystane Martell.

Henry and Cassana exchanged nervous glances. _You go. No, you_ , Davos saw them silently mouthing to each other. In the end, they both stepped forward and slowly walked to where Stannis was standing, close to the door. Henry held out both his hands, and Stannis passed him the letter.

“Thank you, Grandfather,” the children said in unison. Stannis nodded, but he made no move to leave the room.

“Well, aren't you going to read it? You don't seem very happy to receive a letter from your mother and father,” the king said, as he watched the twins standing silently at attention, making no move to open the letter. Davos could see that the children were actually bursting with excitement, but they knew better than to show it in front of the king.

“We will read it later, Grandfather. Grandfather Davos is reading us the history of House Baratheon,” Henry replied.

Stannis frowned. “But surely you have learned that in your lessons with Maester Pylos?”

The children squirmed. It was Cassana who finally replied. “Yes, we have, Grandfather. But we like hearing Grandfather Davos read,” she smiled uncertainly.

“Do you? I wonder. Is that why you were asking him to tell you the story, instead of reading it?” Stannis was smiling, but his smile only made the children more nervous. They stared at each other, and finally at Davos, with eyes as big as saucers, pleading for help.

“You know what a poor reader I am, Your Grace. It will take me a long time to read it. Telling the story would take less time,” Davos said with a grin. The twins gave him a grateful look.

“A poor reader? You have not been one for a long time, my lord Hand,” Stannis replied. He returned to the children, his eyes staring intently at them. “You should be very honored to have him read to you. Your grandfather did not learn to read and write until he was a grown man, older than your father and mother now. That is not an easy task, I can assure you.”

Henry nodded. “Yes, we know, Grandfather. Mother told us that.”

“And Father said that Grandfather Davos learned to read and write because he wanted to serve his king better,” Cassana said. “To serve you better. Because the Hand of the King should know how to read and write. But why … why did you ...” she hesitated, looking at Henry, who was shaking his head vigorously.

“Why did I what? Speak up, child,” Stannis said impatiently, scowling.

Cassana looked down, shifting her feet, one after the other. Henry was doing the same, unconsciously, Davos knew. They often mirrored each other's action without realizing it.

“Well? What do you want to know?” Stannis asked, his tone gentler this time.

Cassana finally looked up. “Why did you appoint Grandfather Davos as your Hand, when you knew he did not know how to read and write at the time?” She glanced at Henry, and nodded vigorously at him. Henry hesitated at first, but he finally spoke. “Is it … is it because he is your friend?”

Davos winced. The children should have asked _him_ that question, instead of their other grandfather. He waited for the angry explosion from the king.

It never came. Instead, Stannis went to sit on the chair closest to the fireplace, and motioned for the children to come closer. “Sit,” he commanded. The children obeyed immediately, taking the seats opposite him.

“You too, Lord Davos.”

“Your Grace, I should leave. There is still the account for the additional men and weapon we sent to the Night's Watch to inspect,” Davos replied.

“I have inspected the account myself. Sending men who are actually trained to fight to the Wall, instead of rapists and murderers, is costing the throne a lot of gold dragons, it seems. But it has to be done,” Stannis said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Davos replied. He sat down next to the king, who seemed to be lost in thoughts, pondering the throne's financial worries, possibly. The children waited in silence, staring at Stannis, sitting stiffly, not daring to move even an inch. Davos smiled at them. They smiled back, but only briefly, their eyes quickly fixed on Stannis again.

Davos cleared his throat. “Your Gra -”

“What did you ask me before?” Stannis asked the children abruptly.

They did not hesitate this time. “Why did you appoint Grandfather Davos as your Hand,” Cassana began, “when you knew he did not know how to read and write at the time,” and Henry ended the question.

“Certainly not because he is my friend,” Stannis retorted.

It must be Princess Shireen and Devan filling Henry and Cassana's head with that strange notion of a friendship between the king and himself, Davos thought. Davos loved them both dearly, but he had to admit that his son and daughter-in-law had some inexplicable notions about things that mystified Davos at times. And the very idea that Stannis Baratheon would ever appoint anyone to a position because of a friendship! Davos was offended on the king's behalf. The children knew very little of their royal grandfather, it seemed, if they really believed that.

_My fault, probably,_ the thought struck Davos suddenly. _I am the one who should be telling them more about him. His Grace would never do it himself._

“Then why did you do it?” Henry asked. “Why did you appoint Grandfather Davos as your Hand?”

“Because he was the right man for the position. And the only one I trusted. You can teach a man to read and write easily enough, but trust, and loyalty, are much harder to come by. Those things cannot be taught, not by any maester,” Stannis replied. He was not looking at the children, but staring at Davos. Davos struggled not to look away. He was the one squirming under the king's intent gaze now. The children was looking at him with commiseration, Davos saw through the corners of his eyes.

Davos had defied Stannis for the boy Edric Storm, but he had done it in the name of loyalty. Loyalty to the king's cause, and to the man that Davos knew Stannis still was, deep inside.

Stannis finally released Davos from his gaze, to his great relief. “The story about Orys Baratheon being a Targaryen bastard is only a rumor, there is no proof for it. Aegon Targaryen made Orys his Hand because he trusted his ability, not because Orys was his half-brother,” Stannis was telling the children.

Davos flinched slightly hearing the word 'bastard' spoken in front of the children. That did not escape Stannis' notice. “Your other grandfather disapproves of me saying 'bastard' in front of your tender and innocent ears, it seems,” he said, his mouth creasing into a half-smile.

“No, Your Grace. It's only that, well, it is not what I think that matters, but what their mother and father might think. They are the parents after all,” Davos replied.

“And Shireen and Devan might disapprove of me corrupting their children with words like 'bastard'?” Stannis laughed. It was not a mirthless laugh or a harsh, bitter laugh - even if it did not sound too joyful either - but it still shocked the children. “My daughter knows me well enough to know that I do not mince my words. Devan too, he was my squire for years,” Stannis continued. “What word should I have used instead, Lord Davos? Born on the wrong side of the blanket, perhaps?”

“We know what a bastard is, Grandfather,” Henry said solemnly.

“You are not corrupting us,” Cassana reassured her grandfather.

Davos and Stannis both laughed, long and hard. The children stared at their grandfathers, puzzled.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Cassana did not understand why both of her grandfathers were laughing. They had not said anything funny, she and Henry. She glanced at her twin brother, to see if he was feeling as confused as she was, but Henry was too busy reading the letter from Mother and Father.

“You didn’t wait for me!” Cassana whispered furiously. She wanted them to read the letter together. They had always done everything together. At least they _had_ , until recently, when Grandfather Stannis said it was time for Henry to start learning sword-fighting and lancing from the master-at-arms. Father had been teaching both Cassana and Henry fencing and archery for a while now, but Grandfather said it was time for Henry to train with the men, and not with his sister.

“Sorry,” Henry whispered, with that foolish grin on his face. Cassana could not stay angry with her brother for any length of time. She smiled as he held out the letter to her. They read the letter from their mother and father, together, silently.

Mother had argued with Grandfather Stannis about Henry. Cassana and Henry had overheard them, hiding behind the door like they usually did when Grandfather Stannis came to speak with Mother.

“Henry is too young to train with grown men,” Mother had insisted. “Devan can teach them for now. Cassana and Henry have always done everything together.”

“It’s about time for that to end, don’t you think?” Grandfather had snapped. “You’re not preparing them for the different roles they will have later in life, Shireen.”

“They are only eight,” Mother replied, looking defensive. “Plenty of time for that later.”

From his expression, Cassana could tell that Grandfather Stannis disagreed with Mother, but he said nothing at first. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Jaime and Cersei Lannister were very close as children as well,” he said abruptly.

Mother paled. “What are you implying? That’s absurd!”

Henry and Cassana did not hear Grandfather’s reply; Father had spotted them and gave them a warning glance. Later, Henry had wondered aloud what Grandfather meant when he mentioned the Lannister twins. Cassana did not know the answer either.

“Should we ask Mother?” Henry had suggested.

“No!” For reasons she could not explain even to herself, Cassana knew that was _definitely_ something they should not do. “I think … I think that will make Mother upset.”

Henry frowned. “I guess you’re right. Mother was angry with Grandfather for bringing it up. What about Father? Should we ask _him_ instead?”

They decided to ask Father about it, but he had scolded them for spying on other people’s conversation. It was very unlike Father to be so short with them.

But Mother and Father had sat Henry and Cassana down a few days later for “a talk.” Cassana always knew when “a talk” was coming because Mother and Father would have this strange look on their faces.

Henry’s hand shaking her shoulder startled Cassana. “You’re not reading the letter,” he said accusingly. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere,” Cassana reassured him. Henry sometimes got mad at her for what he called ‘ _going somewhere else in her mind’,_ and leaving him behind.

“And how was the wedding? Are your mother and father having a good time?” Grandfather Davos was asking. Henry and Cassana were both startled; they had almost forgotten that their grandfathers were still in the room with them.

“Prince Trystane is a very charming and gallant groom, Mother wrote,” Cassana replied.

“Really?” Grandfather Stannis replied, sounding doubtful. “I’ve always thought the Martells very plain-looking. One of their more appealing traits - their lack of charm, gallantry and good looks.”

“Princess Arianne is very beautiful,” Henry said wistfully. The Princess of Dorne had come to King’s Landing to ‘negotiate’ with Grandfather Stannis half a year ago. Cassana wondered what it was they were negotiating.

“Is beauty very important for you?” Grandfather Stannis was asking Henry, staring at him with that look that always terrified Henry and Cassana.

“No … I mean … it is not the most important thing, Grandfather,” Henry stuttered.

“What was Mother and Father’s wedding like?” Cassana asked abruptly, before Grandfather Stannis could ask Henry another question. Henry gave her a quick glance, full of gratitude.

Grandfather Davos smiled. “Well, it was lovely. It was such a beautiful wedding, we all had tears in our eyes,” he paused, his face lighting up as if he was back on that day. “Tears of joy of course,” he hastened to reassure them.

Cassana could not imagine Grandfather Stannis with tears of joy in his eyes. And sure enough, he was taking exception to Grandfather Davos’ account of the wedding. “Speak for yourself, Lord Davos. I was dry-eyed throughout.”

“Of course you were, Your Grace,” Grandfather Davos replied, but in a playful tone he usually reserved for his grandchildren.

“And in any case, Shireen and Devan’s wedding was close to being a disaster, there were so many things going wrong. Did you forget about the cloak?” Grandfather Stannis was not letting up.

“What happened to the cloak?” Henry asked.

“Is it the maiden cloak?” Cassana continued her brother’s question.

“Or the bridal cloak?” Henry said.

“Both,” Grandfather Stannis replied. “The cloaks were tangled up together. The onions embroidered on the bridal cloak had somehow gotten entangled with the embroidered crown on one of the stags on your mother’s maiden cloak. It took a long time for your father and myself to separate the cloaks, so he could drape the bridal cloak over your mother. Some of the guests were laughing. It was _most_ undignified.”

“It was a good-natured laugh, Your Grace,” Grandfather Davos said.

“I doubt that very much,” Grandfather Stannis scoffed. He had a faraway look in his eyes. “Devan was very patient and good-natured throughout, I will say that. Shireen was probably more impatient than I was.”

“Maybe Mother could not wait to be married,” Henry piped up, and then seemed to regret it. With Grandfather Stannis in the room, Henry and Cassana had to be more careful about the things they said. It was different with Grandfather Davos.

To Cassana’s relief, both of their grandfathers laughed, however. Grandfather Stannis’ laugh sounded more like a scowl to Cassana, but at least his expression did not look annoyed or irritated.

“What about _your_ wedding, Grandfather Davos?” Henry asked.

“Well now, I know your Grandmother Marya has told you that story plenty of time,” their kinder grandfather replied, smiling kindly.

“But we want to hear it from you,” Henry said.

Grandfather Davos glanced at Grandfather Stannis. “I’m sure Your Grace has better things to do than listening to a foolish old man reminiscing about his wedding.”

“Not at this moment, no,” came the reply. Grandfather Stannis looked almost … amused. Henry and Cassana glanced at each other, feeling uneasy. This was definitely ‘ _an unusual thing_.’ And there was always unpredictable danger in ‘ _unusual things’_ , the children were well-aware of that from experience.

But Grandfather Davos did not seem concerned. “It was a very small wedding, just our families and a few friends,” he started. “Marya had gathered the flowers herself, in the woods. Daisies and wild roses. I can still smell them,” he continued, his nose sniffing as if he _was_ really smelling the flowers at this very moment.

“What about the feast?” Cassana asked. Blood orange fowl was the main course at Trystane Martell’s wedding, her mother had written. She wondered what that tasted like. Henry would not like it, Cassana thought. Her brother disliked anything sour.

“There was not really a feast,” Grandfather Davos said. “Only a small dinner at an inn.” For some reason, he was looking uncomfortable.

“Feasts are a waste of time and money,” Grandfather Stannis growled. Henry and Cassana had heard him say this many, many times before.

“But …” Cassana started, but then immediately changed her mind.

It was too late. “But what?” Grandfather Stannis was staring at her.

She shook her head quickly. _Nothing. Nothing at all._

“Speak up, child. Are you afraid of me?”

 _Yes!_ Cassana thought, and without even looking at Henry, she knew that Henry was thinking the same thing.

“But we can’t leave the guests hungry, can we, Grandfather?” Henry asked in a small voice. It was Henry asking the question she had wanted to ask. It was Henry coming to her rescue this time. Cassana sneaked a grateful glance at him. He looked absolutely terrified.

The two of them moved closer to each other, waiting for the inevitable explosion from Grandfather Stannis. It did not come. He only sighed regretfully. “I suppose we can’t. But there’s no reason we have to feed them more than bread and water.”

Henry and Cassana knew better than to ask Grandfather Stannis about _his_ wedding. Grandmother Selyse had reminded them more than once never to ask him about it. “Something bad happened on our wedding night, and it would make him angry to be reminded of that. You don’t want to make your grandfather angry, do you?”

“No, Grandmother,” they had assured her. She had been vague about what the ‘ _bad_ ’ thing was. They could not bear to ask her for more details; Grandmother Selyse had looked so sad.


	3. Chapter 3

The children had not asked about his wedding to Selyse. They had lapped up the stories about the wedding of Davos and Marya, about the wedding of their parents, but they had never asked either Stannis or Selyse about _their_ wedding. Shireen must have warned them not to do so, Stannis suspected.

_In their beginning was their end_. He had in fact believed this about his marriage, without truly realizing it, let alone admitting it. He had been scornful of Selyse’s conviction that their marriage was cursed never to produce a son because of Robert’s shameful conduct on their marital bed, but he himself had believed in a different version of this theory – Stannis was convinced that their marriage was doomed to be cold from the start, because of the way it began, with a naked and drunken king mounting the bridesmaid on the bed meant for the bride and the groom to consummate their marriage.

Davos would have said that nothing was predestined or set in stone, that with hard work and perhaps a little bit of luck, anything was possible.

Stannis would have scoffed at his Hand’s boundless optimism.

“Why did it take so long for Prince Trystane and Lady Myrcella to be married?” Henry was asking Davos in a quiet tone, as if he did not want Stannis to hear him. “I heard they were betrothed since they were children.”

Davos looked stricken, clearing his throat nervously. “Well now …”

“Because they did not have my approval to wed before,” Stannis interrupted. Who would have known that Trystane Martell would have the patience to wait that long for the king’s permission to wed? There were many who thought he would have tried to find some pretext to set aside his betrothal with Myrcella and wed someone else long ago.

“Oh,” Henry said, just the one word, and he fell silent after that. Stannis saw the twins exchanging meaningful glances with each other, as if begging the other to be the one to ask Stannis the question foremost in their mind – why? Why did he withhold his approval to a couple already betrothed?

It did not surprise Stannis that Cassana was the one who finally gathered the courage to ask the question. She was bolder than Henry, more daring and adventurous in many ways, and even though she was the younger of the twins and had come later into this world, she acted more like a protective older sister towards Henry.

“Why didn’t you allow them to marry earlier, Grandfather?” Cassana asked, her mouth fluttering uncertainly between a smile and a grimace.

_She’s afraid of me, just like Henry_. The thought discomfited Stannis for reasons he could not name. It was right that Henry should fear him, after all Henry would inherit the throne after Shireen and it was his duty to ensure that Henry would grow up to be a man worthy of being king (Shireen and Devan were much too lenient with both their children, in Stannis’ view). But this girl named after his late mother, that she should fear him as well struck him as vaguely disappointing.

_Why shouldn’t she fear me as well? I have never treated her any differently than I treated her brother._

His reply to her question was more abrupt and harsh than he had intended. “I need to be certain that Dorne will not wage war on Myrcella’s behalf to claim the throne before allowing the wedding to take place.”

“And are you certain now, Grandfather?” Cassana asked.

“Nothing is ever certain, but laws and signed treaties are stronger guarantees than loud proclamations and promises of loyalty and allegiance. Dorne would pay a steep price if they dare to break their written oath,” Stannis replied.

There was also the matter of the two betrothals. The Princess of Dorne would not sacrifice the chances of her daughter to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and for her son to wed a royal princess, for the sake of a Lannister bastard. That had been the matter negotiated between Stannis and Arianne Martell when she came to King’s Landing earlier in the year. Dornish allegiance had always been suspect; they had supported the Lannister first in the war, then switching their allegiance to the pretender who was calling himself Aegon VI Targaryen, after that changing their allegiance once more to support Daenerys Targaryen once Stannis had defeated the pretender in the stormlands, and finally only reluctantly declaring their loyalty to King Stannis Baratheon after he sent his troops to surround Sunspear, well into his reign, long after all other regions had bended the knee and accepted Stannis as king. The Targaryen-Martell bond had proven to be quite strong, stronger than Stannis expected.

And that was what gave Stannis the idea for the double marriage alliance, like the one King Daeron II Targaryen had negotiated to bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms and to ensure peace. Daeron’s sister Daenerys had wed Maron Martell the Prince of Dorne, and Maron’s sister Myriah had wed Daeron himself to become queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Stannis saw this as a necessity, but Shireen had disagreed. It did not matter; he was king, and even the Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the throne still had to obey the command of a king.

“It does not matter how a marriage started, what matters is what you do once you are married. You said that to me once,” Stannis reminded Shireen.

“I was talking about you and Mother!” Shireen exploded. “Not about my children being promised to complete strangers when they are scarcely out of the nursery.”

“This is the way marriages have always been arranged. This is the way the world is. You might have forgotten that because you were allowed to marry a man you happened to love,” Stannis snapped, losing his patience as well.

“Are you saying you are dissatisfied with Devan? That you wish I had married a different man?”

“Of course not. I would have chosen him for you even if he had not been the man you love. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what _is_ the point, Father?”

“We have to do what is right for the kingdom, not act according to our wants and needs.”

“It is my children’s wants and needs I am thinking of, not mine,” Shireen said, her voice sad and despairing.

“When I am dead and you are queen, you may do as you wish. For now, this is my command as king. Princess Arianne and I will sign the agreement tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” Stannis said with a finality that declared that the matter was closed and not to be discussed again. He knew his daughter though. Shireen would not tear up the betrothals when she was queen if it meant jeopardizing the kingdom in any way. She knew her duty too; she was his daughter after all.

The children had not yet been told about their betrothals. Arianne Martell had brought miniature portraits of her son and daughter with her, kept inside two sun-shaped lockets that she had given to Henry and Cassana as parting gifts. Henry had excitedly exclaimed, “Your daughter looks just like you, Princess Arianne. Just as beautiful.” Henry’s intended bride was eight, the same age as he was. Cassana’s intended was older, ten on his last nameday.

Cassana had been more wary, asking Shireen later why she and Henry had been given the lockets with pictures of children they had never met. Shireen had murmured something vague about appreciating a gift and not being ungrateful, and promptly went to confront her father.

“They must meet and spend time with their intended, get to know each other at least, so they will not be total strangers when they marry,” Shireen told Stannis firmly.

“I will not send my grandchildren to Dorne.”

“You are sending Cassana there to wed the future Prince of Dorne,” Shireen said, incredulous.

“Not now. Later, when she is of an age to marry.”

_When she is older and wiser, and could fend for herself._

“These are my children, Father.” Shireen was pleading. “I can’t bear the thought of them being trapped in unhappy marriages with strangers they do not know.”

Stannis sighed. “I will write to the Princess of Dorne. You will bring the Martell children to King’s Landing for an extended visit when you go to Dorne for Trystane Martell’s wedding.”  

“She might not allow both of them to come,” Shireen said.

“She will. She wants these two marriages to take place as much as we do,” Stannis replied.

“As much as _you_ do, Father,” Shireen said pointedly. 


End file.
